Shit, fuck and damn. I thought I had out run my monster this year. I thought that I had managed to escape the demon. I thought I had dodged the bullet of Post Natal Depression.
I don’t think I have. It crept up slowly. Sneakily, quietly piling things on top of me. Now I feel it’s weight. The heaviness of the inadequacy. I feel alone. I feel like I am a bad mother. Like I am going to fuck up my kid for the rest of my life because of having these feelings right now. Because I did not feel bad enough without reading that a mother’s post natal depression can have an impact on their kid into adolescence.
When I can check nearly all the boxes on a quick screening for PND. When my Edinburgh screening score has shot up to 26 out of a possible 30. (This is one test where I would be happy to not ace). When my reaction to my son screening is weariness and not compassion. I am scared. I am petrified that this time the dark will win.
I know that I can get through this. But right now, in the long dark sleepless night. I wonder. So for now, I will cling onto hope where I find it and remember that maybe it is not all hopeless bullshit. (Thanks Allie)
Love and not surrendering,
Postscript: I am not okay right now. But I have the advantage of having been on this ride before. I have a great therapist and a pretty solid support structure who will help me work things out. But what I wrote here is also part of my truth, just like having a wonderful kid who I love greatly and a supportive group of family and friends are.
If you are a fellow warrior you might find these links useful:
Post Natal Depression Support South Africa